There Is No Joy in Trollville

This story is nothing at all like anything I have ever written, and contains no sex or smut at all. It is intended to be an inside story for other Literotica writers.

Ebeneezer the Troll slunk along the back streets of the New Story Section of Literotica. He had a sack of one-bombs slung over his shoulder and when those ran out, there were plenty more available. Like all trolls, Ebeneezer had an unlimited supply of those bombs. His only complaint was that he could only throw one of them at any one submission.

"Fuckin' slut wife and wimp husband," he muttered to himself when he saw the story that had been posted to the Loving Wives category. He had no need to read it; he knew he didn't like it, and he prepared the first of the bombs he was going to explode that day. After clicking on the "1" he triggered the blast and watched happily while the score for the story crumbled from his assault.

"That'll teach 'em to write about sluts and wimps," he said, gloating over his prowess.

"Faggots! Lousy faggots!" Ebeneezer took careful aim at the next story, which was in the Gay Male section and launched his second one-bomb, scoring another hit. "Fuckin' queers," he muttered, congratulating himself on his perfect aim. "I don't gotta read about no fuckin' queers to know I hate 'em."

"Goddam dykes!" was the epithet he hurled at the next story, in the Lesbian category this time, before hurling a bomb at it. Once again, his marksmanship was flawless.

The next three stories were about Erotic Coupling, and Ebeneezer left them alone, not throwing any bombs. Sometimes he read those stories but he never voted, even in the unlikely event they found favor with him. A Celebrity story followed these and it featured an actress he disliked. He disliked most actresses and actors and almost everybody else anyhow.

"Take that, bitch," he shouted, and watched with satisfaction as his one-bomb found its mark and the score collapsed. He was in unusually good form that day, expertly using his bombs against anything he disliked, regardless of his reason for disliking it.

Ebeneezer didn't only launch one-bombs against individual submissions. "Hey!" he snorted when he recognized the name of an author. "That's the sum-bitch that just won a contest. Here, smarty-pants, I got your fuckin' prize right here!" and another one-bomb hit its mark. Possibly Ebeneezer would return and read the story; he had actually enjoyed others by the same author. Just then, though, he didn't have enough time.

"Got a lotta work to do," he reminded himself.

Except that he enjoyed it, Ebeneezer didn't know why he one-bombed the hard work of authors, only that he and his fellow trolls had always done it. Among his associates, he was held in the highest esteem for his perfect aim with his bombs and for his willingness to work long, tedious hours. Ebeneezer tirelessly one-bombed stories and poems and essays, combing through the lists of new submissions every day, besides looking at the top lists for additional targets. He and the other trolls firmly believed that nothing was deserving of a place there and they did their best to eliminate anything that happened to become listed. Once a submission had received the necessary ten votes, especially if each of them was a five, it was bombed mercilessly. Sometimes there were even trolls standing in line to one-bomb such a tale.

Although targets of those kinds were fun, the absolute favorite of all the trolls were the entries in contests. Several times a year, Literotica held such contests and Ebeneezer and his cohorts felt they had been given a mandate to do their best to reduce the scores as much as possible. If they had their way, no entry would ever have a high enough score to win anything.

Finally, after many hours of one-bombing everything and everybody he took a dislike to, Ebeneezer decided to call it a day. He had used up and replenished his supply of bombs several times, and considered the day's work to be one of his finest accomplishments. He would brag to the other trolls of what he had done that day and challenge them to try to match him.

Ebeneezer was tired from his long day and he slowly trudged past his handiwork back to Trollville. Suddenly, he heard a strange whining noise, much like a vacuum cleaner makes when it is being asked to handle too much debris. With fear and loathing, he recognized what he was hearing. It was a sweep! Laurel was doing a sweep, undoing the work that had just been accomplished. Ebeneezer was outraged that everything he had done would be for naught but, even more important, he feared for his safety.

Sweeps of this kind took the rubble that the one-bombs had produced and reassembled it back into what had been there before the attack. More menacing than that, they would include anything in the vicinity in the new structure. Ebeneezer tried to run; he didn't want to be included in a reconstructed story he had just bombed, but he was too slow and too late. Along with everything else around him, he was swept up and pressed into the rebuilt story. With extreme dismay, he realized the particular tale of which he had become a part was in the Loving Wives category. Unable to move, he was forced to stare at a stereotypical sexy blonde using the cowgirl position to fuck a handsome man. Ebeneezer knew, beyond even the shadow of a doubt, that he was being forced to watch the perfidy of a slut wife.

He was trapped. He could not escape and he could do nothing but watch the lustful coupling of the pair as they cuckolded her wimp husband. If some other troll came along and bombed the story anew, Ebeneezer would have little chance of surviving that attack and, even if he did, he would be the laughingstock of all of Trollville for having become part of one of the most detested of stories. Crying tears of agony, the former terror of Literotica accepted his fate.

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I hope you had as much fun reading this vignette as much as I did writing it. You can vote and comment as you see fit but, mostly, I hope you enjoyed it.